she thinks she won't hear, she'll begin again. Won't she,
Martin?"

"She often is like that," said Martin, "but perhaps she'll be better
to-day. Go on reading, Miss Maudie, and take no notice of her when she
comes in."

In about ten minutes the door opened and Hoodie appeared. She marched in
with a half-defiant air--evidently "humble-pie" had at present no
attraction for her. No one took any notice of her. This did not suit
Hoodie. She dragged her little chair across the room and placed it
beside her sister's.

"Doin' to be dood," she announced.

"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Hoodie," said Martin.

"Doin' to be dood. Maudie, litsen," said Hoodie impatiently, giving
Magdalen's chair a jerk, "doin' to be _dood_."

"Very well, Hoodie, only please don't pull my chair," said Maudie, in
some fear and trembling.

"You're not to read, you're to litsen when I speak," said Hoodie, "and I
will pull your chair, if I like. I love mother, don't love _you_,
Maudie, ugly 'sing that you is."

Maudie did not answer. She glanced up at Martin for advice.

"Well, Miss Maudie," said Martin cheerfully, "aren't you going on with
your story?"

"It's done, Martin, you forget," said Maudie.

Martin gave her a glance which Maudie understood. "Say something to take
off her attention," was the interpretation of it.

"I'll look for another. Don't run away, Hec and Duke," said the elder
sister quickly. "I am afraid there is nothing in this book but what we
have read lots of times," she added, after turning over the leaves for a
minute or two. "I wish it was somebody's birthday soon, and then we'd
get some new stories."

"My birthday next," observed Hoodie, complacently.

"No, Hoodie, 'tisn't," exclaimed both the boys, "'tisn't your birthday
nextest. 'Tis ours. Aren't it now, Martin? You told us."

"Yes, dears, it is yours next. In June, Miss Hoodie dear, is theirs,
you know, and yours won't be till July."

Martin made the statement gingerly. She was uncommonly afraid of what
she might be drawing on herself by her venturing to disagree with the
small autocrat of the nursery. To her surprise Hoodie took the
information philosophically, relieving her feelings only by a piece of
biting satire.

"That's acos the months is wrong. When _I_ make the months they will
come 'July, June,' not 'June, July,'" she said.

Hec and Duke thought this so original that they began laughing. A
doubtful expression crept over Hoodie's face. Should she res